


Past, Present, Future II

by DarkShadeless



Series: Past, Present, Future [2]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic (Video Game)
Genre: Absentee Parents, Canon-Typical Violence, Emotional neglect, Fix-It of Sorts, Gen, Infiltration, Time Travel, Vaylin as a child, Zakuul, and its culture, assassination plots, creeping loss of identity, feelings sure suck, getting attached when you don't mean to, i had no idea regicide takes this much babysitting, neither did Yon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-02
Updated: 2019-05-14
Packaged: 2020-02-15 21:10:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 15
Words: 15,717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18677455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkShadeless/pseuds/DarkShadeless
Summary: The plan is simple: Keep his head down, bait the trap, strike.His greatest weapon is Valkorion’s own ego. How could a mere mortal be a threat? Yon killed him once. He’ll do it again.Nothing ever is that easy, though, is it?





	1. Intro

 

 

The plan is simple.

_Get access. Keep your head down until the right moment. Strike._

It’s not a tactic Yon –

_Forget that name. Bury it. That’s not who you are. It can’t be._

It’s not a tactic _Kit_ would employ if he had another choice. He has always hated betrayal.

_Your preferences are irrelevant._

He can do it. He knows how to gain his former Master’s favour. It’s rather straightforward, once you’ve caught the trick of how to go about it.

_Be swift. Be merciless. Be nothing but obedience._

_Be nothing._

His greatest weapon is Valkorion’s own ego, the vanity that will ensure the Eternal Emperor will not see past the façade until it is too late. After all, how could an ant like him keep anything from the gaze of a god? How could a mere mortal be a threat?

_I killed him once. I’ll do it again._

_Nothing ever is that easy, though, is it?_

_  
_

* * *

 

 

The training regime of the Zakuulan knights isn’t exactly a walk in the park but it isn’t the torture some of Kit’s fellow recruits whine about either.

 

_Those are shunted to support roles quickly enough._

It’s harsh but he can do harsh. This is a far cry from the life-or-death form of selection his last training regime was.

 

_He treats it as if it isn’t. He has to excel. Failure isn’t an option._

The words Senya once spoke to him when they barely knew each other come to him often. They are as true now as they were then, when they built the bridge between them, the understanding that saved her son when she threw herself between them.

They were so different and so alike. In the oddest moments he would see himself in her.

 

_I believe we all hide parts of ourselves away. Don’t you?_

Kit is taking that to new heights these days. Parts of him are buried so deep he has no idea if he’ll ever recover them. The amber he has carried since the day he was born fades from his eyes until it’s almost gone, passion tamed to make room for new lessons and prevent rousing suspicion in those who might recognize a Sith-trained Force user.

A necessary sacrifice. That doesn’t mean he spends less time staring into the mirror, feeling divorced from himself. The young man looking back at him has the face of someone untouched by hardship. Only the shadows in his gaze give away what lies beneath.

It will be worth it. It has to be. Kit will take what he has and make it enough. It won't be the first time.

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

 

 

As a recruit, Kit isn’t perfect.

 

_Perfection draws attention._

 

His peers find it hard to relate to him because he is so focused. Even among the lower ranked knights his dedication is remarkable. When others take a break, he still pushes himself. He does not take time off. He masters every lesson their teachers give them and more often than not he masters them _first_ but his superiors note that in social interactions he is stilted and uncomfortable.

Yet when he is told he is finished, he turns around and helps whomever will take his advice. He works just as hard at that as on his own skills, no matter that he is not a people person, and his earnest awkwardness soothes bushfires of envy. Most of his comrades tolerate him well enough.

He might never be a leader but not all knights are. Truly, not all knights should be. Tenacity and a willingness to serve is worth much in a subordinate.

When a security breach leaks personnel files into the internal holo-net, his among them, rumors flare and die as quickly as they started. Personal history is not something that defines a knight where their achievements are a more ready method to distinguish their mettle.

Kit’s fellow recruits glance his way for a few weeks but close ranks to any who would bother him about it. They are increasingly understanding of his zeal in the aftermath, even helpful.

_Watching an artist at work pays off. Thank you, Theron, wherever you are._

Kit allows his comrades to forge their bonds. He has always been good at drawing people in.

 

_Usually he does not plan on using their loyalty as a weapon._

 

His perseverance is rewarded. They knight him after barely two years. He takes his oaths knowing he will break them.

“Congratulations, son. You’ll do our Order and our Emperor proud,” his Captain tells him and means every word. Kit has to avert his eyes because he isn’t sure what the man will see in them if he doesn’t. Thankfully discomfort in the face of praise fits the young knight they’ve come to know.

“Thank you, sir. I’ll do my best.”

And he does. Kit gives his very best in defence of the people of Zakuul, a merciless guardian against all that is unjust.

 

_All but the one thing he can’t reach yet. But he will._

Every day brings him closer to his goal. It’s only a matter of time.

 

_How much time does he still have?_

More often than he likes, he lies awake counting the days. Has the war between the Republic and the Empire already reignited? Has their Emperor been ‘slain’?

_If he isn’t currently inside Valkorion’s body, can I even kill him?_

With the dawn he lays his doubts to rest and faces another day. The cycle continues.

 

What Kit forgets is that his life tends to be a plaything of the Force. None of his plans ever do quite work out the way he intends them to.

It shouldn’t come as a surprise that this one is no exception.

 

* * *

 

They come for him in the middle of his shift. When a scion asks you to follow them, they are not making a request. Kit acquiesces as a matter of course, heart in his throat.

_He knows._

_No, he can’t. I haven’t given myself away, have I?_

What would the Scions want with him? He’s no one. Just another knight. To serve is his life and he’s _good_ at it but he’s nothing special.

_Have they seen something? I’ve relied on the haziness Valkorion’s spirit seems to cause their visions. If they have, if I’ve been caught…_

With every step they take their goal becomes clearer. It takes all of his willpower to keep his stride even when they finally reach the elevator to the throne room. Heskal himself is waiting on the threshold.

The greying man musters him with an unfathomable expression. Kit meets his eyes and does not flinch.

“Come, then. It won’t do to keep his majesty waiting.”

_Valkorion. I’m not interesting enough. Not yet. Why would he bother with me?_

The thought of being in the presence of their ruler fills him with anticipation and dread.

_I can’t let him see. I’m not ready._

He has never been called upon, hadn’t counted on that happening yet, but he knows the protocol.

_Don’t falter now._

Kit strides down the walkway as if the very sight of it doesn’t fill his mind with flashes of memory, kneeling in supplication at a respectable distance as is proper. Cold sweat is prickling on his neck.

He does not fear Valkorion, precisely. If it turns out he has given away his game for some reason, he won’t hesitate to take this chance to put a lightsaber through him, no matter his odds of actually putting him down.

But he had been hoping for a better opportunity. Taking on the Emperor unprepared, in the presence of his full honor guard, could prove to be disastrous. He only has one shot. He has to make it count.

Time stretches to infinity under the star-bright dome of the Eternal Throne.

“This is him?”

Kit breathes deep and lets calm settle over him like a shroud. Not the use his instructors thought he’d put their lessons to, he’s willing to bet. The Knights do have some very interesting techniques at their disposal.

“Yes, your highness. Some of the future is veiled but that much is clear.”

“Hm.”

He can feel Valkorion’s regard. He knows it all too well. It settles on his shoulders heavily, assessing.

“Tell me boy, what do you strive for?”

Slowly, Kit glances at his ruler’s expectant face. _His Emperor. His Master. His enemy._

_I am not your Wrath. I am your executioner._

“I,” His heart is racing but his spirit is as still as an undisturbed pond. “I wish to serve, nothing more.”

_It rings in the Force, a perfect truth._

Valkorion’s stare is as cool as it ever was. Just as lazy, as well, bored with the antics of those he deems lesser than him.

Kit does not meet it directly, subtle submission in every line of his body. He can tell the exact moment the Emperor’s attention slides off him like oil on water.

“I suppose he will do.”

Heskal bows deeply and he almost misses his own cue. Surprise and relief are coursing through him, only rivalled by the sheer fury Kit has to swallow at the too familiar dismissal. It is what he has been working for so hard, to be overlooked as anything but a pawn, and still it burns.

He trails after the scion in half a daze.

The point of the whole exercise reveals itself on the way down. Unlike Valkorion, Heskal hasn’t stopped studying him as if he might look inside him if he only tries hard enough.

_Yeah, good luck with that. Didn’t work last time either._

“Say, have you met princess Vaylin?”

Kit almost startles out of parade rest at the non-sequitur. _Vaylin._ He hasn’t thought of that name in years.

“I’m sorry, sire, I cannot say I have.” Curiosity gets the better of him and has him speaking out of turn, “Why?”

“Because I see you at her side.” Heskal squints at him. “In fact, that’s _all_ I see when I look at you. You wouldn’t be able to tell me the reason for that, would you?”

All Kit can manage in response is stunned silence. The older man sighs. “I did not think so. It will reveal itself.”

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

 

 

Two days later he meets Senya Tirall for the second time in his life. She is reserved but polite, obviously unsure what to make of this fresh-faced knight assigned to be her daughter’s personal guard.

Obvious, at least, to someone who knows her.

There is no recognition when she sees his face. Kit isn’t surprised but it hurts nonetheless. Here is one of his allies, a friend, and she doesn’t know him.

 

_She can’t be allowed to know him. He’s the man who will murder her husband._

He smiles at her, awkward but sincere, and asks about his duties. About his charge.

If her lack of recognition cut him that’s nothing compared to what seeing her light up at the topic of her daughter does to his heart. She looks so _happy_.

_I know you did what you had to, Commander. It just hurts. I’ll recover, in time. When we go to battle, I will be ready._

Senya walks him through their routine and what will be expected of him. Compared to his patrol runs and investigations it’s practically a vacation detail. Only it’s not, of course. In the event that there _is_ an attack on the royal family he cannot allow it to slip past him.

Vaylin has to be his first priority. Her mother is very clear on that. She can take care of herself and he isn’t to forget that.

Kit solemnly swears he won’t.

 

_In another life, he has had her throw him around like a toy. He’s not going to forget Senya’s strength any time soon._

 

It’s a picture perfect family scene, their home, but the cracks are there if you know what to look for. Neither Arcann nor his brother Thexan are home often, because they all but live in the training grounds. If Kit remembers correctly, they are ten.

It’s a familiar sight. His own early years were defined by intense conditioning too. Little wonder that Arcann was such a formidable foe.

But Valkorion wants servants, not heirs. It shows.

However, Kit soon learns that their father’s failings aren’t the only problem. Especially where Vaylin is concerned.

 

The first time Kit sees her is a shock. He had, perhaps, been bracing himself for what she would be like. He has heard too many contradictory stories. The little blond girl that greets him is worlds removed from the woman he fought.

She’s a whirlwind for sure, distrustful of his interference with _her_ life and unwilling to stay still for any length of time. She is also sweet. Curious. Opinionated. She’s just a child.

 

_He starts to dream of Nathema. Of that un-living nightmare, insanity made rock and flesh. Eyeless monsters chase him through the skeleton of a madhouse._

_There's no way out.  
_

_More often than not Kit wakes drenched in sweat with the taste of ashes on his tongue._

In the second week, Vaylin looks up from her crayon sketches with those big blue eyes and bites her lip. “Are you okay?”

Kit makes himself smile and tries not to let her feel how much the very sight of her hurts him. “I’ll be fine, princess.”

She looks just as impressed as her mother once did, when he claimed the same right before he fell through time.

  

* * *

 

It is harder, as a man in a position this prestigious, to escape the Spire for a while but it is worth it. For just a few hours Kit can put the matter of the royal family from his mind and breathe. Relax.

 

_As much as he can risk, anyway._

Breaktown isn’t a place many of Zakuul’s citizens would chose for a vacation spot. It suits Kit well enough. It’s all about the company, really.

“Hey!”

Zuri impacts against his side like the world’s most energetic battering-ram. “Oof! Watch it!”

Thankfully he isn’t wearing his armor. She can and has pulled that stunt while he was in full plate.

“You made it!”

“I did.” She’s so unabashedly happy to see him Kit can’t help but smile. A bit of wriggling and he is returning her hug with less force but just as much feeling. “I’m glad to see you.”

“Me too.” These days his friend is a little quieter than she used to be. She’s still _bright_ though, filled with such a love of life and a goodness Kit is hard pressed to believe can exist in a place as grim as Breaktown, or anywhere. “I missed you.”

Zuri says that every time and every time Kit’s heart twinges. One day she’ll wait for him in vain. One day he won’t come. But that day is not today.

“Let’s get some skewers, hm? My treat.”

His friend shoves him with a laugh. “You’re always throwing your money around! Stop it.”

True to form he retaliates by sticking his tongue out at her. “Well, I _have_ money now and if I want to spend it on you I will. Just watch me.”

“Ugh. You’re such a snob.” It’s their little running joke. He will wheedle her about letting him help, she’ll poke at him about not wanting charity. Neither of them pushes so hard it becomes a _thing_. Kit will… he will miss this. When he’s gone.

But today he is here.

“I found the rocks you were looking for!”

“What, really?”

“Yep!”

“That I have to see.”

Today he is here. Sometimes you have to take your life one moment at a time.

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

 

 

_Yes, Valkorion is a problem that throws its shadow across his whole family. And then there is Senya._

_Once he sees it Kit cannot look away. He can’t forget._

_He has never been good at lying to himself._

 

The thing is, Vaylin is powerful already. Just a child and already as brilliant as a star. It spills over in more or less controlled outbursts, every other day. Her mother is helpless in the face of her strength. They are not alike enough, or maybe Vaylin is too young to understand things usually impressed on older, more mature minds. She’s not a Knight recruit, she’s a little girl.

Kit watches Senya attempt to teach her daughter reserve and Vaylin hear _you’re not allowed to play_.

He watches her give lessons on restraint and his charge learn _you can never do this when I’m there_.

He has the sinking feeling, if he watches long enough he will see that little girl realize her mother is _afraid_ of her.

It’s not a lie and it’s not all true. Senya is worried. She is not yet afraid but it’s only a matter of time. The echo of her despairing voice haunts him.

 

_I went to him and I begged. His daughter needed help!_

If it comes to that, if Senya asks Valkorion to _fix_ their daughter, in all the trustfulness of someone who thinks him capable of caring about _anything at all_ –

The thought is unbearable.

Kit is still grappling with that realization when they head out into the forest for the day, Vaylin a sullen thundercloud two paces ahead, hating _everything_ the way only a freshly scolded child can.

Her saying so had struck her mother to the core. Kit is less shaken.

He grew up in a family bent for the Dark side, grew up to be Sith. He knows what hate looks like and this is hardly it. Maybe her sulk would be more impressive if she wasn’t stealing covert glances at him to make sure he hasn’t left her.

Kit acts as if he doesn’t see. She’s a proud little thing. If she thinks he’s caught her, she will have to run off to prove she doesn’t need _anyone_ , even though she likes nothing less than to be all alone. Maybe because her mother leaves her behind ever so often, lately, in a misguided attempt to hide from her child that she is upset.

Vaylin knows, of course. She can _feel_ it.

He has learned how sensitive she is for himself when she almost gave him a heart attack, asking out of the blue, “Why do you not like me?”

As Senya so often does, he almost glossed over the ugly reality he hides away, until he caught sight of how solemn she looked. So sure that she was right. She just wanted to know _why_.

Kit had paused, unsettled and unsure. When he leaned into the Force it whispered to him quietly what he already suspected, _Nothing but the truth will do. If you lie she will know._

Slowly, feeling his way forward through the many half-truths he was living these days, he had pieced together a response that had surprised even himself. “You… remind me of someone I once knew. That someone hurt people I loved, so sometimes you remind me of that, too. But that’s not your fault, princess.” He had avoided looking at his own emotions on the matter too closely, before, hadn’t wanted to know what he would find. Did he hate a child for something it hadn’t done?

The relief makes him smile, a rare, true one, just for her. Kit knew it was lighting up his eyes and his presence in the Force by the echo of wonder that slowly grew in her to replace well-hidden fears and hurt feelings. “I like you just fine.”

That had settled between them with a comfortable chime. Vaylin’s aura almost seemed to reach out and prod at it, to see if it was solid.

 

_Her power is incredible. Kit has never seen anything like it. The stunted thing Valkorion’s tender mercies left behind, thrashing and bleeding, had been… less. Even after she broke her chains._

_Some shackles aren’t so easily discarded. Some scars are permanent._

 

Kit doubts it would help Vaylin’s relationship with her mother to tell the woman that her daughter knows without a doubt about every little thing she is trying to hide. Maybe not the details but the girl can tell there _are_ details to know. So when she isn’t told, she makes up the rest for herself.

_What an absolute mess._

One thing is certain, Kit is not the right person to give Senya advice, even if he thought she would take it. He’s just the guard, a twenty-something too big for his britches is all she would see.

Yet it’s becoming increasingly obvious that there _is_ no one else. Who would dare to butt in on the royal family’s personal life? Valkorion is the Eternal Emperor, after all. He is a transcended being. Of course he is a perfect father and has a perfect family.

_Ugh. I think I’m going to be sick._

Vaylin gives him a narrow-eyed look that prompts Kit to pull his mind out of the gutter. Her highness does not approve of his tendency to brood. She claims it makes her head hurt.

The innocent grin he throws her would have any number of his acquaintances in the Order do a double take. His princess puffs up in her best impression of offended royalty. It’s pretty good, actually, but on her size it’s just cute. 

Kit doesn’t laugh only because he knows he’ll regret it. She carries a grudge like nobody’s business. Last month he woke to unmentionable substances in his armor and he is positive he hadn’t done anything to deserve that for at least a week.

Vaylin is tenacious like that, much like the woman she once became.

With the wisdom of a man older than his years (and a healthy dose of self-preservation) Kit finds a safe spot to sit and lets her to stomp around between the trees and kick at whatever gets in her way until she runs out of steam.

His patience often is rewarded. It’s no different today. After most of the innocent grass in reach is trampled and she has bruised her toes on a stone that was more firmly wedged into the dirt than it appeared, Vaylin throws herself down next to him, arms crossed over her chest and face scrunched up in the angry grimace that means she’s trying not to cry.

Kit takes it for the demand it is and puts an arm around her tiny shoulders. He lets his head fall back against the tree behind them, so he can enjoy the sun breaking through the leaves. Conveniently he can't do that and look at her at the same time. They both pretend he’s deaf until she’s done sniffling.

 

* * *

 

As much as Kit’s new duties test him in unanticipated ways, they also open doors for him. With every month in service, his access to the palace grows. His knowledge of rotations and procedure advances in leaps and bounds.  

Soon, he might even be called upon to offer his own suggestions.

But he has to be careful. Kit walks a fine line between dutiful knight and assassin-in-waiting. Until he is ready, no one can know. No one can even suspect. He has to be beyond reproach.   

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was brought to you by a certain scene in the KotET intro cinematic, where Senya and Vaylin's relationship is introduced. The whole thing makes my heart hurt for more reasons than one.


	5. Chapter 5

 

 

Vaylin’s power advances in leaps and bounds. Every day the worry lines on Senya’s face grow deeper.

It’s heartbreaking to see them both suffer for it, witness how the careless, outgoing girl retreats into herself with every attempt her mother makes to curb her accidents.

She cannot help the flares and Senya _knows_. That only makes her more afraid for her child. She has forbidden her intentional use of the Force outside of training.

_Is she afraid enough yet to feed her daughter to a monster wearing the face of a loved one?_

Vaylin spends more time outside than ever. Somehow Kit has become her confidante. Unease grows in his chest, with every secret she gifts him, unknowing what he is here to do. How he will use her.

 

_He’s the man who will kill her father. Every day brings him closer to that goal._

 

But Kit cannot take this from her just to make himself feel better. She needs _someone_. Her brothers are gone more often than not, whom will she talk to if she doesn’t have him?

Still, the day that highlights how much has changed since he arrived takes Kit by surprise.

 

* * *

 

The morning has been hard. Senya, stressed and helpless, lost her temper when Vaylin broke all the windows in the kitchen in a tantrum. She rarely yells but she was… disappointed. She was harsh.

_She was scared._

Vaylin is a quiet, curled-up tangle of misery at his side. She doesn’t even pretend at anger today.

Sympathy gnawing at his heart, Kit is trying to find a way to cheer her up when his charge does something she never has before. She puts all her pride aside and whispers, “Do you think mother hates me?”

_Kriffing hells._

He wants nothing more than to do what any adult should, to reassure her that, _no, of course not. Senya could never hate her. Everything will be fine._

Her wide, wounded eyes have the words die in his throat. Around them, the air is filled with a quiet whisper of power.

 

_Nothing but the truth will do._

She’s so _young_. It isn’t fair.

But the Force isn’t fair, is it? It isn’t kind. None of his own teachers have ever tried to tell him that it is.

Kit has learned to be in awe of it, to love it, to bend it to his will. He has also learned never to expect compassion from an entity greater than any mortal could comprehend.

What Valkorion plays at the Force _truly_ is, in all its terrible glory. What does it care for a little girl’s heart?

“Princess.” Kit rests a palm on her unruly crown of braids. “Your mother doesn’t hate you.”

His words fall into her waiting hands like pearls on a string, to be weighted and measured. To be found wanting. Vaylin catches them with an ease others train for years to gain. He feels her pull at him, wordlessly demanding _you will say more_. A stern look is enough to make her flinch back.

She knows what she is doing, she _wants_ to do what she is doing with all the impetuousness of a child, but she is so bruised by disapproval that Kit softens in the face of it. He curls his own power around hers before she can lose what she is holding and murmurs, _like this._

Vaylin hates to be still but under his correction she is. They breathe as one. Kit wonders if anyone ever bothered to sit with her and nudge her in the right direction.

Probably not. From what he has seen this is not a training method the Knights employ. To them, the Force is a tool, a boon, but one to be used in very specific ways. Their methods are rigid and Vaylin breaks every mould.

“She loves you.”

It aches to see her take that absolute truth and view it with eyes older than they should be, feel her presence shine with desperate longing and _this is something he believes. It doesn’t have to be right._

She’s bright, in so many ways. Too often the person harmed most by that is herself.

Kit sighs. “She’s just afraid you will get hurt.” If he had any choice, he would stop there. He doesn’t. “Or that you will hurt someone else.”

Vaylin’s pain cuts him to the quick. _She knew that, she knew it, she had wanted him to say it wasn’t true._ The pull grows, Kit can feel her _trying to be good but_ _she has to know. She has to! **TELL ME!**_

Digging in his proverbial heels he puts his own strength toward withstanding the tide. It’s… harder than it should be. Still, nothing compared to what he once faced and Kit did not lose then. He’ll certainly not roll over for an eight-year-old.

The silence between them is heavy, Vaylin’s presence knotted up in anger and guilt. “ _Why won’t you tell me!”_

“My princess. You _will not_ force me to give you my thoughts unless lives depends upon it. It is _not right_.”

As with Senya, who only ever succeeds in riling her daughter’s temper, the reprimand brings tears to her eyes. Unlike with her mother, she doesn’t flee his presence. Maybe because even in this, Kit is calm.

 

_Maybe because he doesn’t flinch away even with her powers turned against him._

When his charge can no longer meet Kit’s eyes, when her hands curl into fists under the weight of his displeasure, he gives her the answer she is looking for. It’s laced with as much admonishment as forgiveness.

“No. I don’t fear you. I couldn’t hate you.” _Not you. Never you._ Vaylin glances up at him, uncertain. The string of reason clutched in her grip is not yet at its end.

No other Force-user Kit has ever met has been this adept at ferreting out incomplete truths. He huffs. “I do think you need to practice, though. Patience is a virtue.”

Her grimace at finding _that_ at the core of the matter is a reward in itself.

 

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings in the bottom notes for those who want them.

 

 

With every day, Kit loses a little more of who he once was. The name he wears is _his_ now. When he calls upon the Force for patience or favor it feels like blasphemy. The names of the gods come to his lips before his ancestors do.

Sometimes, when he wakes and thinks ahead to his duties it takes him longer than it should to remember what his true duties are. Even if he survives what he is planning… could he ever go back? Is there a space for him, a hole he left? If there ever was time must have closed it by now. So many things he never did, will never do.

There are missed chances he regrets more than others. He can only pray, to whichever higher power his heart calls to first, that Vette has proved to be as resourceful as she always was. That she never _really_ needed him to get out of her ordeal on Korriban.

Kit doesn’t know what he’ll do if he finds out that this hope is in vain.

It is just one of many, many thoughts he pushes away, deep as he can. There is only so much he can do to hold on to who he used to be.

 

* * *

 

 

To say Wrokin looks suspicious to find a knight out of uniform on his doorstep would be an understatement. “Back again? Didn’t think you’d be by.”

Kit gives him a look. “Didn’t Zuri tell you?”

“Yeah, she did.” After a glance around the artist slash criminal mastermind opens the door a little wider. “Still. What’s someone like you doing in my humble shop, bigshot?”

“Wrokin, you haven’t had a humble anything in your _life_.”

The dig does more to unbend the guy than sweet-talking ever could. Wrokin grins, showing off a set of teeth only his mother could love. Actually, the woman would probably bend him over her knee and deck him for poor dental hygiene. “True ‘nough. You here to do business, boy, or take up my valuable time?”

He’s only half-joking. The man is a veritable genius at what he does. Kit rolls his eyes regardless. “Business. I need some ink done.”

“You don’t say. What’cha bothering me for? No fancy shops up top?”

 _There are but this isn’t something I can walk into a regular parlour for, old man._ “I need your special touch.”

It takes Kit over an hour to lay out what he wants to his satisfaction. By the end of it even Wrokin has dropped all daffing. “That’s a bazoonga, lad. Gonna hurt like shit.”

 _You don’t say._ “I don’t care. Can you do it?”

“Sure can.”

He has proven good enough but, “No artistic licence. I want it exactly like that.”

Wrokin fends off his demand with a wave of his hand. “Yeesh, I heard you the first time. Relax. Your weird squiggles are gonna be perfect.” A gleam enters his beady eyes, “And expensive. Usual rate, I don’t do bulk discounts.”

Well, that’s going to blow a hole in his finances. Good thing Kit has exactly two things he spends his money on, scheming and Zuri. He has a few credits saved up. More than enough to cover this, even with all the bells and whistles. “Fine but I’ll get my own ink.”

“Whatever floats your boat. If you don’t go crying to the health inspectors, I sure won’t.”

Yeah, that’s what Kit was counting on. Unregulated raw kyber is hard enough to come by. He’s not about to lose all of Zuri’s work to an overenthusiastic do-gooder.

 

* * *

 

He cares too much. He has gotten attached, put down roots and it shows.

This isn’t what Kit planned, he was never supposed to get this close but he has and there’s no ignoring what is coming. He tells himself it’s not that much of a deviation. The entire house of cards will be plunged into chaos anyway, when he finally gets his hands on Valkorion, when all the pieces of his plan are finally in place.

There are complications of course.

_What if the princess tells someone? It could get me demoted. It could get me killed._

If this ruins all he has worked for…

_I’ll have to cross that bridge when I get there._

He can’t leave her fumbling about untrained, until someone deems her ready to fully teach her the use of this tool in the name of justice. Vaylin really is going to injure someone and that will be the last straw before her mother decides she’s in over her head. She _is_ , of course, but her solution to that problem will be unacceptable.

Not that Senya knows that. Having your mind crowded with future knowledge no one will believe is such a _bother_.

_How is this my life?_

Sometimes Kit wonders if the memories are even real.

On other days he feels the loss of what was and will never be so keenly he has to force himself to function at all. He regrets, then, not taking on the Emperor at that one chance he had, honor guard and scions notwithstanding. There hasn’t been a better one yet.

 

_And would it matter so much if he died fulfilling his mission?_

But what good would it do if he couldn’t be sure of his success?

While Valkorion lives he’s a threat, to everyone around him. To the Sith Empire, to his own family, to absolutely everything Kit has ever cared about, whether it will be his in this life or not.

Kit must be absolutely sure he will end him if he is to take that risk, not for himself but for all he is protecting.

He has prepared as best as he can, now. He is so close. There is little more he can do except damage control.

Vaylin absorbs every lesson he gives her like a sponge. It’s telling that Kit doesn’t have to insist on keeping them secret too adamantly. She has already learned that no one will approve of her playing with her powers. Curbing her need to show off for the parent she thinks _might,_ if she just does _well enough_ , is the greater challenge.

Harder yet is making her understand _why_ she has to be able to suppress parts of them. Vaylin wants to shock and awe, she wants to devastate the enemies of their Empire, just like her brothers do. Most of all, gentleness and restraint aren’t something she is good at and she wants to be the _best_.

 

_Kit knows why: Like all children she believes that if she’s the best, her father will see her. He has to._

 

Caution doesn’t mesh well with that kind of drive.

Kit needs all the patience a former Sith Lord can be expected to possess. In fact, he’s positive even a Jedi might put him forth for sainthood, in the face of the challenge he is taking on.

…or something.

It’s not so terrible, really. Tactical whining to the empty air about his woeful fate is a new and well-polished strategy he wouldn’t have thought useful in child-rearing and it’s becoming such a habit he is hard pressed to stop even in the privacy of his own mind. ~~~~

The whole thing is a little ridiculous but it works wonders.

Vaylin knows he doesn’t _truly_ mean it. It still offends the fuck out of her and there is nothing like spite to motivate this little terror. If he hints at doubt that she can do something she will spend the next week showing him that she is _perfect_.

Endearing as that is, it has him lying awake in the middle of the night, worried he missed the moment when she needs to be praised and undermined her self-confidence.

 

_As wrought from duranium as Vaylin seems, she isn’t. Her fault-lines are many. What if he screws this up? What if he screws **her** up? That went **so well** the last time._

Kit… doesn’t think he’s doing badly. Her random outbursts are growing rarer. Yesterday she managed to get through a whole screaming match with Senya without breaking a single thing.

Her mother was so relieved she hadn’t even grounded her.

Their relationship is still rocky. Vaylin too often takes her mother’s lectures as lack of belief in her, or as an attempt to forbid her something exciting.

She’s the type to throw herself into things headfirst, fall on her face and then punish the ground for giving her bruises.

Senya tries to shield her (and the rest of the galaxy) from that and it will never work. Her daughter prefers the pain to missing the chance to leap, to grow, to _be better_. Kit would know. He was much the same, before he learned a more forgiving pace by necessity. He knows that thirst to push your limits, no matter the cost.

 

_Once, he killed an entire Temple's worth of Jedi just to see if he could._

_Oh, it had been for the war effort and they had refused to surrender but... he hadn't minded that, had he? He had **wanted** the fight. He hadn't cared how many he cut down past the challenge and he hadn't cared that it might kill him. What does death matter if your fear of it keeps you from living?_

_Sometimes Kit looks back and considers just how much of a reckless, short-sighted fool he used to be. Ah, to be young._

 

With power like Vaylin possesses, what could slow her down? All he can think to do is to show her why she shouldn’t bulldoze over _every_ obstacle, because some of those obstacles would get hurt in ways no one could fix and that was a _bad_ thing.

Empathy is hard for her. Valkorion’s influence, no doubt. He holds his children apart from the peasantry and Zakuulan society doesn’t help. They revere their princess, daughter of the man that might as well be a god. No one is her equal, only her brothers. That, actually, might be part of her and Senya’s problems.

Kit will not be touching that nest of Killik with a ten foot pole. He’s happy enough that Vaylin doesn’t disregard his opinion, even if her face twists up in displeasure when she pesters him inevitably about the _why?_

 

The day his charge bursts into tears after accidentally crushing one of Zakuul‘s oversized, harmless glow-flies, he might or might not have offered prayer to all the Old Gods.

She thought it was pretty, just wanted to hold it still and take a closer look. Now it’s dead. She felt it die under her hand in a burst of terror.

It’s not a droid. It can’t be repaired.

Vaylin tolerates lessons in control much better after that.

Maybe this, too, is a difference between him and Senya. The truth is, Kit could have prevented that accident. He didn’t. When the result of her exuberance will not be completely disastrous, he usually doesn’t. Consequences aren’t an easy thing to convey to a child, especially one like their princess.

He refuses to protect the world from Vaylin’s power until his strength isn’t great enough to contain the destruction. She will have to do that herself. She has to know, has to _feel_ , what it will mean if she decides to not learn to keep it at bay.

 

_Especially since he will not always be there._

 

The arrangement isn’t perfect but it works. Sometimes, he catches Senya in one of the rare moments where she is unguarded, watching her daughter play on the lawn with an expression so achingly, tentatively hopeful Kit has to look away before it tears his heart right out of his chest.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter warnings:  
>   
> \- Sith being Sith (or remembering a time when they were Sith >>; ) (by which I mean the razing of the Green Enclave by the Emperor's Wrath in this case)  
>   
> \- Fatalistic, intrusive thoughts that can be read as suicidal ideation (character is not necessarily suicidal but the situation is sure wearing on them)


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings in the bottom notes for those who want them.

 

 

For a while it seems as if the royal family’s home-life is stabilizing but fate is a fickle creature and it will not be denied.

Kit never thought the Scions were completely wrong, in this life or the last. He believes in making his own luck as much as he is sure there is an underlying current that guides a person’s steps. What he doesn’t believe is that that current must be a benefit, or in rolling over for a thing that doesn’t have his best interest in mind.

That’s what always rubbed him wrong about Koth’s enthusiasm with destiny. You can be destined for something and still doomed.

 

_‘He was meant to be Valkorion’s Wrath and then the one to challenge him.’_

_Kit has known more people than Koth who claimed that. They tend to forget he had to haul himself out of a cave on Quesh half-dead and leave his heart five years in the past, lost to carbonite, for the privilege. He had to watch a whole world die, helpless to stop the monster that called itself his master._

_People like Koth forget that if Kit had hesitated even once, if he had allowed any of that or a hundred other hurts to break him, he wouldn’t be anything but dead._

_He doesn’t forget. He can’t._

 

They are on a rare trip to the upper levels of the Spire when it happens.

It's a festival day, dedicated to the pantheon as a whole. Vaylin has been looking forward to the outing for weeks.

He’s not the only one at the end of his tether. “Vaylin! Don’t run ahead!”

Senya’s shout goes unheard (ignored), as her daughter dashes after her brothers. _They_ are allowed to go further, after all, why shouldn’t she be? Her appointed guardians share a moment of perfect understanding and exasperation. “Oh, for the mercy of Scyva. Kit, would you?”

He answers her request with a shallow bow. “Of course, my lady.”

His charge is not so fast he cannot catch up. Senya could do it herself but it’s unseemly for the Emperor’s wife to shove her way through a crowd, at least where it will be recorded.

Kit wouldn’t have thought she’d let things like that hold her back. The woman he has come to know has more layers than she ever showed him, before.

The twins, it seems, have been drawn by a weapons exhibit. A few off-duty knights must have volunteered to perform a show-fight. Such entertainment is usually only seen in the lower levels, where the royal children never go.

Their sister hasn’t reached them yet. Kit is debating the wisdom of scooping her up and towing her back to her mother’s side the way she deserves. _Is it worth it?_ _She’ll make me pay for that._

Then he feels it. Like a touch of cobwebs, gossamer threads spun of fire and ice. A predator’s shadow on the ground.

_Danger._

His princess stumbles to a halt, her brothers forgotten. She has noticed it too.

_But she hasn’t realized what it means._

Kit breaks into a run without a moment’s hesitation. The warning trills against his nerves, setting his blood alight the way it always has. The terror hot on its heels is a surprise.

 

_He fears nothing and no one, only failure. Only losing those he cares about._

_Kriff, when did that happen?_

Vaylin screams when he grabs her, rough as he never is, and shields her with his body just in time for the first blaster shot to glance off his armor. Panic breaks out around them. People push each other out of the way to get to safety. Kit shoves more than one person that would have run them over without remorse.

More shots are fired. His hand finds his lightsaber but he doesn’t ignite it. There’s just no space.

Smoke burns in his eyes, fills the air with the stench of singed clothes and cooked flesh.

Vaylin is whimpering against his chest, clinging to him like the little girl she insist she isn’t, and all Kit can think is, _either they can’t aim or they are kriffing blind._

They’re a sitting duck, on a walkway without cover. The exits are blocked and in his uniform he might as well be wearing a target on his back.

Danger whispers in Kit’s ears when it should be screaming. _This isn’t an assassination. They’re firing at will._

It’s a matter of minutes before the skytroopers will arrive. Security is tight. Whoever is doing this must be well-organized to have made it this far.

They won’t miss their window of opportunity, whatever their intention is.

Focus dragged in three directions at once, Kit hauls up his princess and ducks toward the ramp he came from. Using civilians as distraction might be one of the most distasteful things he’s ever had to do.

He can’t protect them and Vaylin both. Kit has a duty here, he can have a crisis of conscience later.

The twins will have to fend for themselves. He doesn’t doubt the Knights they were watching will give their lives in their defence. His priority is right here. If he can just get out of the open, reach Senya –

A speeder crashes into the bridge, ahead of them. In a wild spin it takes out both guardrails and sends bodies flying like broken toys. Kit cups the back of his charge’s head and prays she hasn’t seen that.

By the way she is shaking he doesn’t have much hope.

Time slows to a crawl. Danger chitters like a songbird, draws his senses to the flames licking at the vehicle’s once-bright paint. There’s no room for thought. Kit throws himself backwards and _where the fuck is cover when you need it_ –

Does he close his eyes? Is the explosion so bright it blinds him? He can’t say.

He snarls his denial at the Force, reaches deep and drags all the power out of himself he can find.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter warnings: 
> 
> An attack on a crowded venture takes place, as experienced by someone /in/ the crowd, trying to get a child to safety. Also, something explodes.  
> (On re-read I realized this might warrant an in-depth warning.)


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THIS MADE ME CRY. (That was a psa, thank you. I was going to post yesterday and realized something was missing. What was missing? MOAR ANGST. You are welcome.)  
> Trigger warnings in the bottom notes for those who want them.

 

 

_It feels like drowning. Like burning alive, hanging over the edge of a cliff with nothing but your fingernails and he had forgotten how it hurts when you break yourself open to let in the Dark so it can swallow you whole._

_It feels like coming **home**._

 

When the smoke clears they are the only thing left standing. The perfect silence of possibly ruptured eardrums envelops him as Kit stares at what he has wrought.

Victims of the blast are scattered left and right. There are too few. He tries not to think about how many have fallen, whether they were dead when they did.

An arm’s length in front of them the purple sheen of a Force shield glitters in the sun.

Kit doesn’t have the time to panic about that before the walkway begins to sag with an ominous creak. _Oh no._

He has to get them _out_ of here, he has to do it _now_ but he can’t seem to make himself move. Never has he been afraid of heights before he came to this insane place that calls itself a _city_ yet this might be enough to give him nightmares. Vertigo steals his breath.

 

_Or has he overtaxed himself? The shield is not something he should be able to call upon. But he did. He did. How much of Valkorion is clinging to his spirit? What else has he left behind?_

The floor starts to tilt, angle growing steeper as support struts crumble. The whole walkway is about to come crashing down, one wrong move and –

Everything stops mid-motion, even the chunks of duracrete that were sliding toward the abyss with nothing to hold them.

 

_Not nothing._

Vaylin is looking up at him, eyes bright with fear. Yellow as the heart of a star.

 

 

_Has he taught her this? Is this his fault? Is it a fault? The Dark Side isn’t evil. It’s just dark._

_It’s his birth right, in all its untamed fury. No matter how deeply he buried that knowledge, it will always be true._

_When nothing else will save you, there is always the power you can find within yourself, if you just reach for it._

 

They are the only two people on the bridge to survive.

When the skytroopers arrive minutes later (where the void have they been?) there is no one else to save.

 

* * *

 

It happened so _fast_. One moment the fair was in full swing, the first thing on Senya’s mind exasperation and the faint worry of any mother who knows her child is safe but nevertheless out of her sight.

Kit will find her. He will-

She doesn’t even see the first shot but she’s running, running before she knows it. She doesn’t hear it either.

Senya hasn't heard her daughter scream in fear in years. To her ears it cuts through the deafening noise of the crowd like a vibro knife. Nothing else matters.

_No. No! Vaylin!_

She’s too late. Always too late. She’ll dream of this for the rest of her life. _Shoving her way through an endless torrent of people and she can’t reach her, she can’t-_

The speeder smashes into the bridge, throwing people about like toys. Senya can’t even _see_ them, did they- did it- For one terrible moment she is convinced her daughter is already dead.

But she can’t give up, can’t slow down and she’s so close now, almost there. If they didn’t fall she can still find them. _By all the Gods please. Please. Not my little girl._

As if in answer to her desperate prayers, that’s when she catches sight of them. Kit’s armor is bright even against the colourful riot of the partygoers that have turned into a mob in their attempt to get out of the open and to safety.

It will come back to her in snatches. Snapshots. Realizing that Kit isn’t moving. Realizing that he isn’t moving because he has turned around, to look in the one direction no one is going.

Finally registering what the Force is screaming at her, too late. Always too late.

The speeder explodes.

That seems too mild a word for the fire, lashing out in a hungry, inescapable torrent, for the bone-crushing force that steals her breath even at this distance. Senya’s furious shout of denial drowns in the roar of flame and shattered glass.

Nothing could withstand that kind of violence.

_Vaylin. My sweetheart, no. No._

No mortal could survive this, not unless they were touched by the Gods themselves.

 

_But her daughter isn’t mortal._

Senya, numb, is jostled by the desperate citizens surrounding her but she can’t tear her eyes away from the last place she saw her youngest child. Her baby. She has done so much wrong with her children. Her sons don’t want anything to do with her and her daughter is on the best way of following their example- was- was on the- when was the last time she told her she loved her? Does she know? Did she-

On the bridge the smoke starts to clear. The stiff breeze of the higher levels of the spire carries it away in shreds of grey and white, unveiling a picture of devastation.

Amidst the wreckage there is one figure still standing. Alone.

In their untarnished armor they look like nothing so much as a warrior out of legend. Underneath their feet the shattered bridge hangs in the air, frozen in time.

A hush has fallen over those closest, the ones that have seen. It spreads in ripples of silence.

After a moment one might see cast onto a relief in a temple, Kit inches away from the drop.

Senya can’t breathe. She can’t breathe until her daughter and her watcher are finally on solid ground again. The throng of people closest to the bridge make way for them and for _her_ , and she still can’t believe it but she doesn’t care, as long as her child is safe she doesn’t care-

She doesn’t think on her mistake until it is already made.

All she thinks of is her little girl, so still in Kit’s arms. He’s as pale as death where nothing ever fazes him and Senya doesn’t hesitate for a second to reach for her child. She has to know, has to see-

“Vaylin-“

It’s a mistake.

Vaylin goes tense under her touch. She’s alive, she’s alive and the relief of it isn’t so much short lived as shot through with the shock of what happens next. Something impacts on Senya’s chest with terrible strength. She is catapulted away from the pair, thrown into the crowd to screams of surprise and pain.

Senya is still trying to gather herself, she can’t comprehend yet what has happened, when something makes her look _up_.

The bridge that was starting to sag and give in to gravity is _rising_ instead. It is breaking into pieces of rubble with the tortured sound of overtaxed metal, drawn into an orbit as if by a lazy whirlwind that’s picking up speed.

_Oh no._

Over the years Senya has seen her daughter lose control more times than she can count. Wilfully, accidentally and everything in between. Every day she became stronger, every day-

Vaylin, where she is curled up in Kit’s arms is… she’s shedding _smoke_ , wisps of purple-black shot through with lightning.

Instinctively, Senya knows that if it were to touch anyone, they would die.

This is all she has ever feared, all she has tried to prevent. Her little girl, her darling child and she will _kill_ someone and it won’t even be her fault. Sweet Mercy, she’s going to kill _Kit_.

 

_In her deepest, darkest thoughts Senya cannot claim that she is surprised._

The skytroopers arrive, evacuating citizens as per their emergency protocols but Senya only has eyes for the tragedy unfolding itself in front of her. She has to do something. She has to stop this.

She has to-

Kit, his arms almost completely enveloped in Vaylin’s growing cloud shakes minutely. His eyes meet Senya’s and for the life of her, she cannot place what she sees in them. He’s afraid. Anyone would be.

 

_Somehow that feels wrong. She won’t think back on that until years and years have gone by._

Despite that, her daughter’s steadfast watcher does not forsake his duty though no one could blame him. Would that any Knight be as resolute as him.

He resettles his grip, puts a hand on Vaylin’s hair (gentle, always careful, even now). Then he starts walking, towards _her_ , trailing plumes of sparking power in his wake. Senya wants to stop him, there are _people_ here and Vaylin will hurt them she will- she will hurt _her_ but that’s not so important- and then her world shrinks to what he is saying.

“Sssh, princess. It’s just your mother, see? She’s here. It’s going to be alright.”

Vaylin doesn’t acknowledge his words. She’s pressed against the hard surface of his chest plate so tightly her fingers are turning white. Oh, her baby. She must have been so scared.

Kit sinks to his knees beside her and something makes Senya bold.

Maybe she just can’t stand to see her child suffer. No mother could. Despite the smoke and the lightning crackling against Kit’s armor and the rubble bunching up over their heads she reaches out, slowly this time.

Vaylin’s shoulder is so small under her hand, fine-boned as a bird’s wing. “It’s going to be alright,” she echoes. She'll make it, if she has to. Always.

Senya knows she sounds terrible, choked by her own feelings but under her touch her daughter’s power slowly retreats into herself as she starts to shake.

 

* * *

 

His princess won't give up her death-grip on Kit for anything, or anyone, not until she finally nods off in exhaustion.

He has too much time to turn what happened today over and over in his head.

Kaliyo shouldn't be here yet. If she's old enough to build a bomb she wouldn't be setting them off on Zakuul. Who would? Who would dare? Who would have a reason to?

In the aftermath, after what feels like hours of debriefing, Kit follows the breadcrumbs of information the terrorists left behind to be found by clean-up crews. There’s no rhyme or reason to the attack. None the investigators can figure out, at any rate.

Coincidentally, one of the bombs set off by the terrorists caused a blackout for half a city block, including the nearby skytrooper factory, presumably to slow down response time.

A few enterprising souls promptly vandalized it. The analysts are having a beast of a time reconstructing the sequence of events because all available personnel had been called away or evacuated.

Footage of the incident is mysteriously compromised. It’s all a little too clean cut.

Kit wonders idly what the chances are that they would find evidence of a break-in, if someone managed to piece it together. Small, probably, if his suspicions are correct. Scorpio was always good at tying up her loose ends.

There might be more than one person on Zakuul he owes a second death. That or he is being more paranoid than usual.

But Kit has no time to worry about treacherous droids on a quest to figure out the origin of Zakuulan technology, or the state of his mental health.

The tragedy is all the holo net seems to talk about. That would be- not _fine_ , tolerable maybe, if they hadn’t caught Vaylin’s display of her strength in the Force from every angle possible and insisted on replaying it endlessly.

His survival, too, is attributed to her skills. Kit’s cover is safe, even if he cannot say the same for his charge's peace of mind.

All he can muster in the face of that blessing is dread.

When the Emperor himself deigns to come by to _check on his family in the aftermath of such a traumatic experience_ , his heart plummets so fast it steals his breath. He has no idea how he gets through the ordeal as just another ornamental Knight.

For the first time since Kit has been chosen as Vaylin’s guard her father sees her. And he sees what she _is_ , has the potential to be. A power to be reckoned with. A _threat_.

Merciful Scyva, he has run out of time.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter warnings:  
> The attack of the previous chapter, seen through the eyes of a mother desparately afraid for her child.  
> Senya's and Vaylin's incredibly complicated relationship.


	9. Chapter 9

 

 

It has to be perfect. Nothing less will be enough. If his timing is a little off, if his contingencies don’t pan out-

_Put that away. Your focus determines your reality._

Kit meditates until his head is so clear he feels empty. Every emotion is reigned tight, hoarded for the moment he will need them. The Knights have taught him much. He walks the edge, the cold touch of the Light freezing fury he cannot allow himself. Yet.

He doesn’t let it go. That would be the height of foolishness.

When Senya approaches him with the news that he will be rewarded for his service, which sadly will soon no longer be required, he is ready.

“You have been a steadfast companion for my daughter and for me. Thank you, for all you’ve done.”

Her husband, she says, has decided Vaylin requires further education on how to control her powers. Education she must take in seclusion.

Prepared as he is, Kit can take in her relief and feel nothing but recognition of the current of the Force pulling at him.

 

_This. This, this, this. Soon._

His chance will come. It’s almost there. Rage bubbles like a stream of lava under his carefully maintained shell of ice.

Valkorion sees no need for secrecy. Easy enough, to find the when and how of his plans to take his child away.

 

_And he will do it himself. He has to make sure, after all._

The Emperor’s own misdeeds, the careful act he puts on for most of his realm, will be his downfall. He will take two guards, no more.

 

_The less witnesses, the better._

It’s almost too easy for someone who has had access to the royal family’s schedule for as long as Kit has, to slip into the system and fabricate something that will pull Senya away. An emergency she will view as important enough to leave for, that has her thinking she will be back in time to see Vaylin off.

The princess herself is the only real problem. He cannot take her out of the picture. Valkorion might know if she isn’t there.

Kit can only hope she will keep herself entertained on the treasure hunt he sets her on until he is done. Until it’s over.

 

_He has no desire to kill her father in front of her but if he has to he will._

_As attached as he has gotten, as much of his former self he might never regain, he knows his duty. This is what he came for. This is his chance. The waiting is over._

_By morning, a life will have ended and it won’t be Kit’s if he has a single thing to say about it._

 

 


	10. Chapter 10

 

 

Against expectations the door does not open to those who should be waiting there. The hall is empty.

The Emperor shows no reaction to this. His guards do.

The attack at the plaza is fresh in everyone’s minds. Patrols have been tripled, the amount of skytroopers that are produced increased to maximum capacity. The whole Order is on edge.

Every deviation from routine might spell disaster. No one was happy about their exalted leader’s decision to take family time with minimal security.

But he will have what he wishes. He is the most powerful being on the whole planet, even if they fail – They will not fail.

_But if they did._

The knights fan out, alert.

The house is quiet around them, unnaturally so. His Excellency’s family should be home. The departure was scheduled with painstaking care.

There is no evidence of a fight.

They make it all the way to the living room before they find a sign of life. There, in front of the wide windows in the light of the setting sun, kneels the one that has been tasked with the safety of their princess.

Kit has put his helmet aside. He doesn’t register their entrance, submersed in meditation. It’s surreal. Usually his adherence to protocol is perfect.

“Knight, report. Have Lady Senya and Princess Vaylin been delayed?”

“I’m afraid they aren’t coming.”

“What’s that supposed to –“ The knight’s voice cuts off with a choked gasp. Before his partner can react he’s floating, the armour mesh around his throat buckling under the grip of an invisible hand.

There’s a sharp crack of breaking bone and he falls, limp.

Kit’s left hand is curling around nothing, almost gently.

The remaining knight doesn’t waste time on shock. She throws herself forward, lightstaff leading. It locks with her opponent’s blade, blue and pale amethyst throwing his calm expression into sharp relief. “Traitor!”

His only response is to twist his saber under the weight of her attack, forcing her to unbalance herself. The manoeuvre catches her off-guard. They have sparred before. He has never moved like this.

He hooks his foot around her leg before she can recover and pulls it out from under her.

The knight catches herself instead of crashing face-first to the floor but it’s too late. Kit drives his blade through her back without hesitation. She doesn’t live long enough to take another breath, much less yell a warning.

He’s still kneeling above her corpse when Valkorion enters.

The Emperor takes in the scene with dispassion. “Hm. Barbaric. Now what will this accomplish? I wonder.”

He doesn’t, really. His disinterest is clear.

It lasts until his would-be assassin looks up from his last kill. Kit’s eyes are blood and hellfire, burning like a sun. They fall on his ruler and a snarl twists his features that would be more suited to a wild animal.

Valkorion raises an eyebrow. “What have we here?” Something kindles in his reptilian gaze. “You _know_. However did you find out?”

The Knight answers him with a burst of Force-enhanced speed, drawing his second lightsaber against the shield that springs up against his blow with a viciousness that would have done a Sith proud.

The Emperor huffs delicately. With a wave of his hand he sends the disrespectful creature flying.

Kit is thrown against the polished stone table. It breaks under his back, barely slowing him down before he dents the floor.

To his credit he’s up again in a moment, a scream of fury on his lips.

“Did my daughter tell you?” _She shouldn’t know where I’ll send her_ , swings under Valkorion’s measured tone. “She’s more talented than I thought. Did she ask you to kill me, too?”

They clash again, or rather, the Knight clashes with his impenetrable defences like the insect he is. This time the Emperor doesn’t deign to fling him aside. Let him rail against the inevitable. “She will be disappointed.”

With the air of a put-upon parent he raises a hand. Kit falls to his knees where he stands, gasping for breath. “That’s right. Bow.” Futilely, the Knight struggles under his grip. A lot of fight, in this one. Vaylin has chosen well. Not that he ever stood a chance. Maybe he’ll teach her the futility of railing against his power with her champion as an example. “You are _nothing._ ”

Something… shifts. It’s subtle.

Valkorion can’t quite mask his surprise when the man finds the strength to raise his head and look at him. There’s a bloody smile on his face. “No.”

Kit slides out of his grip and through his shield like a ghost, his blade gem-bright between them. “ _You_ are.”

Shock takes his enemy, for but a moment. Then, despite his pierced lungs, Valkorion laughs. “Oh, we will see.”

Black mist explodes from his chest.

 

 


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings in the bottom notes for those who want them.

 

 

Kit has waited for this moment. Years and years have gone by, spent in scraping together what he needed, spent carving away at his identity until no more than a spark remained.

He has held onto this much, just enough.

Valkorion bursts out of his vessel and Kit feels as if his very spirit has caught fire. One by one the glyphs painstakingly inked onto his skin start to glow.

 

_Senya walks in on her daughter’s guard while he is changing exactly once, quite a few years into his service. He's a handsome young man, much too young for her she feels, if she had any attention to spare for a man not her husband._

_That isn’t what draws her attention against all propriety though. Kit notices her almost immediately._

_‘Oh! Lady Senya. I didn't hear you.’_

_He fiddles with his shirt awkwardly. Even in the face of his discomfort she has a hard time tearing her eyes away. ‘I should have knocked. I apologise.’_

_‘There's no need, my lady.’_

_His entire back is covered in lines of the finest script she has seen outside of a temple scroll. The symbols are alien to her. Bold and looping, stark black against his pale skin, they fill her with a sense of unease for reasons she can’t name. ‘That is quite the extensive working.’_

_She, too, has heard of his less than noble origins. Senya wouldn't have thought he would let anyone take a needle to himself ever again, considering._

_Kit ducks his head bashfully. ‘It's a prayer. My... my family taught it to me.’_

_‘Ah. I see.’ She does indeed. No wonder he hides it, it's clearly not of Zakuulan origin, but if it gives him comfort who is she to judge him for it?  
_

 

It is a prayer, he didn't lie. It's so massive it took almost a year to complete. Almost no part of Kit is unmarked now.

The chant winds from the back of his neck, down his spine and branches out to crawl over his arms and legs. It curls over his ribs.

It cradles his entire body with a single intent.

 

**_Heart and spirit, blood and bone_ **

**_Well of Darkness, heaven's throne_ **

**_Eschew rest and come to me_ **

**_May this flesh your vessel be_ **

 

He dares to doubt the ritual was ever supposed to be used the way he is, twisted the way he did. The touch of your ancestors is a gift, an honor. The thought of inviting Valkorion back into his body has made Kit want to dry heave and claw his own skin off in turns.

But anything, anything to see him dead once and for all.

Anything.

 

**_Blood of your blood_ **

 

_‘Ow!’ Sometimes, no matter what power she possesses, Vaylin looks like the child she is. Especially when she sticks a smarting finger into her mouth petulantly._

_‘Hush, princess. That wasn't so bad, was it?’_

_‘C'n I have my sweets now?’_

_‘Of course.’_

_His betrayal runs deeper than his charge will ever know._

 

**_Bone of your bone_ **

 

_Senya takes one look at her sulking daughter and raises her hands over her mouth in shock. ‘Vaylin! What happened to your hair?’_

_Her watcher cringes as much as his posture will allow. ‘I'm so sorry, lady Senya. I looked away for a moment and her gum had gotten in it…’_

 

**_Let your children's love_ **

 

_It is one of those days. Vaylin has been listless since her mother left in the morning and nothing will rouse her from her mood._

_Well… Kit has a few tricks up his sleeve yet. ‘How about we make a gift for you father, princess? Wouldn't that be nice?’_

 

**_And their power_ **

 

_‘And he will like it?’_

_‘I'm sure if you think of him as hard as you can, he will.’_

 

**_Call you home_ **

 

Kit couldn't be certain until this very moment that it worked. If it hadn't, if Valkorion was free to go where he pleases, slip through his fingers like the shadow he has reduced himself to...

But it did. He can feel the pull, vast as a maelstrom and twice as implacable.

Little wonder. The binding Kit has evoked was created to call the dead back from beyond no matter how far they have strayed. It's true, with a mortal body you leave behind _mortal_ weaknesses. Valkorion is about to regret every step he ever took on that path.

Once upon a time the Immortal Emperor had invaded him to make him his puppet. He failed. Kit had to fight him every step of the way but he failed.

Today his body is the battlefield _he_ chose. Kit is a trap Valkorion will not escape.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter warnings:  
>   
> Changing yourself for the express purpose of getting back at your enemy, not because you necessarily want to. We've had that theme for a while concerning identity but now we get to see the /physical/ lengths Kit went to.  
>   
> Betrayal of trust (specifically that of a child and their parent, who entrusted them to you)  
>   
> Very brief mention of an urge towards self-harm. No actual self-harm happening. (Unless you count deliberately leaving yourself open for possession.)


	12. Chapter 12

 

 

Kit comes to in what he thinks of as ‘the nightmare world’: A place of emptiness and broken rock formations, floating in nothingness, populated with distorted memories playing out in slow motion.

Has Valkorion shattered his mind again?

He’s not twisted into the Emperor’s form this time. He is himself.

In fact, he is more himself than he has been since he conquered the Eternal Throne. He is wearing armor that doesn’t exist in this time and place. Half his limbs relay sensory data instead of real touch. The difference is glaring after so long without it.

Around him, on the ledges of the asteroid, Mandalorian warriors battle skytroopers and the Knights of Zakuul.

If he looks for them, would he find his friends? His allies?

_This isn’t real. It’s just in my head._

It has to be. Still it is hard to break away from the sight, the _hope_ of seeing them again, no matter how fleeting that would be.

If Kit is here, it must be for a reason.

 

_Black smoke, pouring from the ruined body of the Emperor, a laugh on his lips._

 

Of course. So different, yet so familiar. Did his mind get caught on that and had thrown him into the memory he associated with it? The memory of a mindscape.

When Kit closes his eyes he can see it unspool in front of him, where the paths will lead him. What they will show him.

But he doesn’t have to follow them. He already knows where they will end.

The shift is so smooth he doesn’t feel a change.

In the blink of an eye, a twist of his will, crumbling steps rise in front of him. The Eternal Throne towers above them, crowning a lonely island.

Kit ascends slowly, leaving memories of a past that never was, a future that will never be, behind him.

There’s still something he has to do.

 

_Some things are fated. This, apparently, is one of them._

 

Valkorion is contemplating the throne, by the looks of it. “Is this it, then? You think to claim the Eternal Throne for yourself?”

The knight takes in that mild accusation, almost amused. “Nothing could be farther from my mind.”

His voice comes out filtered, in the mechanized tones that were his signature once. Now they make the Emperor whirl, indignation stealing over his face before it smooths into haughtiness. No amount of arrogance can mask the way he takes in Kit’s changed appearance.

To someone who knows the culture Kit was born to, the overtones are unmistakeable and for all that he used them, betrayed them, Valkorion knows it well. “You are Sith.”

“Yes.”

Kit’s former Emperor scoffs. “It seems I’ve underestimated the Dark Council after all. Who is your master? Jaedus?”

“I have no master.” Now more than ever.

“You’re more of a fool than I thought.” Sparks dance on Valkorion’s fingertips. “And you will serve _me_.”

The rage Kit expects doesn’t come. He has spent so much time hating this man, working for his downfall, sacrificing what he had to gain the smallest advantage and here he is. And he has the power to bring him low.

“ _Kneel before the dragon of Zakuul._ ”

The words themselves aren’t special. He knows that now, always did. They have no more hold on the Emperor than any other sentence. What they are though is a focus, a prism to concentrate Kit’s strength. This place belongs to him and no one else. Nobody can defeat him here unless he lets them.

The sparks die. Valkorion stares at his own hands in incomprehension. It’s as sweet as summer wine. “What have you done? What is this!”

“This,” Kit unclips one of his lightsabers from his belt and ignites it. It lies in his hand with the familiarity of a hundred battles, ground won and lost. Blood spilled, allies and enemies dead at his feet. He hasn’t held this hilt in over ten years and likely as not, he never will again. Even if he recrafts this set, it will not be the same.

 

_Just like he isn’t._

 

It’s fitting, somehow.

The blade comes alive in his hand, a blue so light it’s white at the core. “This is your end.”

 

 


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings in the bottom notes for those who want them.

 

 

Kit grows aware of his surroundings gradually.

He's lying on the floor, the coolness of the stone creeping into his body. Consciousness returns to him in fits and bursts of sensation as if he has to claw his way back into control of his physical self.

There’s no time.

_Get up. Come on. Get up. You've come too far._

It's tempting, to not move and sink back into oblivion. To rest.

He has succeeded, done what had to be done, all his work has come to fruition… he's so tired.

_No. You're not giving up. Giving up is for the weak. You're Sith._

Is he still?

_You're Sith enough! Have an existential crisis later!_

Slowly, Kit forces his stiff limbs to cooperate. He feels like he has fought, run, screamed for hours. Every part of him hurts. Outside the sun is still peeking over the horizon, painting the sky a bloody red. He can't have been out for long.

With his head still swimming Kit stumbles to his feet. He can't seem to focus. The letters inked painstakingly across his skin feel like they've burned themselves into his very soul. _Force_.

In his preoccupation he misjudges and falls against the ruin of what once was Senya's kitchen counter. Kit gasps in pain.

He almost misses that he isn't the only one making a sound, it's so faint. Better suited to a small, frightened animal. Not a child.

Kit's perception sharpens, from one moment to the next. _Oh no._

Vaylin. She wasn’t supposed to be back yet but the window of time he had was so small and she is _so sensitive_ -

That is what gives him the strength to pull himself together. That and little else.

Vaylin is pressed against the door jamb, clutching the soft tooka toy he left for her to find against her chest. His first, nonsensical thought is that he should have hidden it better.

_How much did she see?_

She looks so small. Small and scared. “Princess.” Gods, is that him? He sounds as if he has been gargling gravel.

It's so hard to think straight. What was he doing?

Her hair has come free from her braid, sticking up every which way.

Slowly, Kit closes the distance between them and sinks to one knee. Vaylin doesn't flinch back even when he reaches out, on autopilot, to brush an errant strand away. Her wide eyes are fixed on his face.

In the fading light his armored fingers are stained a color so dark it's almost black. 

 _Blood_.

Kit is caught by the sight for a moment, mind empty. Then he lets his hand sink.

He tries to make his voice as soothing as he can. “You're safe, princess, I promise.” _I'm so sorry._

It doesn't matter. His regret means nothing in the face of his actions.

What does she see in him? What does the Force tell her? Kit has no idea. “Go to your room. Wait for your mother. Can you do that for me?”

Absently he registers his princess is shaking. Her hold on the toy tightens as tears gather in her eyes.

“ _Go._ ”

She runs.

Kit's heart would break for her if it wasn’t already in pieces. He has learned to function regardless. It serves him well now, as it has since he arrived. He cannot stay here. He needs to be gone by the time Senya comes home.

 

The next minutes pass in mechanical precision. He had to improvise too much for tonight. His escape might yet fail if any detail doesn’t align.

Kit empties the knights’ pockets. The action is so reminiscent of a drill in the barracks it helps him center, cold clarity descending upon his mind. There will be room for emotion later.

Valkorion's body he leaves untouched where he has fallen, staring at the ceiling with empty eyes.

Time to go.

 

Senya calls him in the hallway, just as he is leaving, armor freshly rinsed.

- _Kit! I am so sorry, my transport was delayed. Has my husband arrived?_ -

 _And left_ , swings in her voice with the grasping fear of a mother missing the chance to see her child one last time before it goes out into the galaxy without her. _Or perhaps a part of her senses what Valkorion will do, after all._

Would do. Won't ever get a chance to do, now.

Kit doesn't glance at what he has wrought in the next room over. “No my lady. I believe his Highness has been held up as well. There is yet time.”

Relief softens her features. - _Oh. Good. I mean,_ \- she smiles at him, abashed, - _You know what I mean._ -

Kit makes himself smile back. It doesn’t reach his eyes. “Of course, my lady. I trust I'll see you soon.”

- _You will._ -

She won't. They exchange goodbyes with that white lie on his lips.

Kit leaves the emergency transponder of her skytrooper escort on the shelf of the entrance hall. It has served it's purpose. He has no more use for it.

 

* * *

 

The hallways are deserted. He makes it all the way to the private hangar of the royal family undisturbed. Valkorion’s doing no doubt. Even most skytroopers seem to have been rerouted. It isn’t until the hangar bay itself that he encounters someone who thinks to question him.

Kit rounds the corner at the brisk clip of a knight on duty, a pace that has become second nature like so many other things have. Without breaking his stride he takes in the two guards with the icy calculation of an assassin. If they prove to be a problem…

It is muscle memory alone that carries him through the recognition that makes his compartmentalization wobble for a heartbeat. _Andre. Lin. Damn it._

Not that there is any one guard on his rotation he doesn't know. Some of the younger knights he picked himself, mentored in his scarce spare time. He has already killed two of them tonight.

But there is no room for hesitation now. His time is limited.

Lin, with all his youthful zeal steps forward and holds up a hand. “Halt. Identify yourself.”

Kit stops as ordered, hands falling behind his back in rest position. “Junior Lieutenant Navar, reporting as ordered.”

His younger colleague falters a little. “Kit?” Lin glances at his older partner. He’s still green enough to be in the habit of looking for help. _Even breaths. Don’t screw up. If you can get them out of the way they don’t have to die. Stay calm._ “You’re not on the roster. Sir.”

“I know.”

It takes all of Kit’s not inconsiderable self-control to loosen his stance, allow his shoulders to slump a little. He glances back the way he came and inches a step closer. His voice is low when he continues, “Lin. I trust you know why you are guarding this door tonight.”

The younger knight shifts, visibly confused but his companion straightens. _Good._

Kit leans into the Force, turning its strands gently in his grip. “The princess is having a,” _Vaylin. So small, so scared. Crying._ He pushes all of it away. _Uses_ it and lets it drift. “A taxing day.”

The shaded truth unrolls smoothly. Lin, no half year out of training, has still served the royal family long enough to shudder out of parade rest. Force, he’s almost a child himself. Kit can _feel_ his spike of anxiety ripple outward.

“His Excellency has taken it upon himself to calm her but it will be best if you’re not here when they depart. Let me relieve you.”

Vaylin has learned much. She has thrived under his tutelage but the guards and servants of the royal family know to be wary of her temper, especially when her personal guard isn’t with her. Not even Senya can coral her daughter like Kit can. He has taken care to stay under the radar but what a master may miss the _help_ is much more likely to see. They all know to whom to look when Vaylin starts to make the fixtures shake.

Lin wavers. He’s young, impressionable. Had he been alone, Kit could have followed up with an order and called it a day. No, the problem is Andre.

“We didn’t get an update.”

Kit looks down. “You didn’t.”

He could take them. Lin? In a heartbeat. He won’t even know what hit him before he is dead. Neither will Andre. He’s starting to go grey at the edges, probably has served Zakuul longer than Kit has been alive _in sum_ but… Zakuul is a peaceful world. Kit has fought wars for the better part of his life. He has had the time to hone instincts these two and every other knight on the planet would be horrified to know exist.

Every second he spends here is one closer to detection.

_No. Do not rush this.  
_

He breathes out. “Do you really think he will notice who sees them off?” It’s so close to blasphemy that Lin’s aura flares with shock.

His partner’s remains inscrutable. “They’ve cut you from attendance, haven’t they.” It’s not a question.

Kit doesn’t answer but that alone is admission enough.

For a frozen moment none of them moves. In the cover of his stance Kit’s hand inches for his blades.

He could have it drawn in the blink of an eye. The real problem are the cameras, everything is so damned networked here-

Andre huffs a great sigh. “You’ll get me demoted lad. Come on Lin. Lieutenant relieved us. Time for a break.”

Lin glances between them, uncertain. “But…”

His partner, bless his compassionate heart that probably _will_ get him demoted for saving both their lives, grabs him by the shoulder. “No buts. Be seeing you, lieutenant.”

Kit lets his touch slide off his weapon slowly. “Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it, lad.” The veteran shakes his head as he frogmarches the junior knight past their superior. “Really, don’t.”

 

* * *

 

The shuttle comes alive for Kit without protest. He does, after all, have the keys to the kingdom. There’s just one last hurdle to take.

Kit’s fingers fly over the Zakuulan control panels, following procedure to the letter. A royal ship doesn’t cut corners. “Vessel 7381 ready for take-off. Awaiting authorization.”

The holo of the Eternal Fleet captain that pops up on his screen almost makes him flinch. He suppresses the urge at the last moment. “Please provide command codes and vector, vessel 7381.”

He taps them out calmly, heart racing in his chest. This might be the most dangerous part of this entire venture.

“Authorization complete. Please proceed.”

“Acknowledged.”

The shuttle slides out of the dock smoothly. The sky opens up in front of him, velvet blue and growing darker the more altitude he gains. All too soon Kit can see the stars beyond Zakuul’s atmosphere and in front of them... in front of the tapestry of worlds too far away to be more than a spark of light hangs the Eternal Fleet. Not all of it, just the home guard, but every one of these ships has firepower enough to destroy him. If they catch him _now_ , if Senya returns _now_ , if his betrayal is uncovered-

_Breathe._

Kit drifts past them, adrenalin speeding his pulse. He barely dares blink while he advances on the exit point at the speed of a snail, or so it feels. A few more moments and he will be in position.

“Have a good flight.”

“Thank you, captain.”

Kit activates the hyperdrive, set to the exact course that would take him to Nathema if the jump he had programmed wasn’t far too short to carry him there. Acceleration pulls on him.

And then he is finally, finally _free_.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter warnings: 
> 
> A child witnessing (at least) the aftermath of what happened last chapter


	14. Epilogue I

 

 

The Emperor is dead.

Vaylin is a shadow of herself. The whole family is tiptoeing around her, around the hole that has left their lives lopsided and off-centre. His sister spends hours in the hills, alone.

Mother worries, Arcann knows. For now she lets her daughter do what she will, unhappy but aware how her child will react if she intrudes.

He has heard Thexan try to soothe her, awkwardly, tell her that their sister just misses her father.

Arcann isn’t so sure.

He knows where she goes.

Out under the open sky, that’s where Kit used to take her. Where he taught her things. Little tricks, that they kept a secret. Games.

Sometimes Arcann came home early, because despite the rifts that divided their family seeing his mother and sister felt _right_ , only to find their house empty.

He thinks back on how he learned to dampen his presence, then, and creep outside to watch.

 

_They are sitting in the tall grass a ways off. Vaylin’s face is a mask of concentration, at odds with her guard’s serenity. As far as Arcann can tell they are weaving flower crowns._

_The blooms float between their hands, stems bending into shape as if on their own._

_Profane. His teaching masters would flog him for such a use of the Force._

_He can’t quite bring himself to scoff at it. It looks… fun. Kit frowns, suddenly, and that’s Arcann’s only warning before the wreath is torn to a million pieces. Petals fly everywhere. Within seconds his sister looks ready to cry, or maybe murder someone._

_Dread pools in Arcann’s stomach, reflexive after witnessing so many of her tantrums, and he almost breaks his cover to allay her temper, shield the knight from her wrath, no matter that he’s encouraging her to do foolish things –_

_Kit laughs. It’s low and soft and somehow it drains all the rage out of Vaylin’s tense shoulders, leaving only dejection. She pouts. Merciful Gods, he hasn’t seen her do that since she started training in the pit._

_Her watcher, always proper, always aloof, smiles and slides a mangled flower behind her ear. Arcann is too far away to understand what he says. It makes his sister huff but brighten a little._

_They start anew._

_He remembers days like that one and wonders if his brother isn’t right after all._

 

Arcann finds her exactly where he thought he would, among the tall grass on top of the hill, staring at nothing. It makes his heart ache to see his sister so hurt.

There’s nothing he can think to say. Thexan is the one that’s good with words, the one that comes to comfort either of them when they need it. Not him.

But Thexan doesn’t _understand_. He never has. He eased their pain and quenched their anger but he didn’t feel the way they did. He was the dutiful son. Their father’s indifference didn’t fill him with rage as it did Arcann. It didn’t cut him to shreds as it did their sister.

 

_His brother is the person he loves most in the galaxy but if there was a thing he could hate him for… that would be it._

Vaylin plucks a flower from the ground, rolls it between her fingers and that’s as much as he can stand before he has to do _something_.

Gently, Arcann lays a hand on hers. By the wan smile she aims his way, she welcomes his clumsy show of support. Maybe he doesn’t need words after all.

The first flower chain explodes in his face. It’s worth it, to hear his sister laugh for the first time in weeks.

As long as they have each other, they’ll be alright.

 

 


	15. Epilogue II

 

 

Kit steps out of the battered transport into untamed wilderness.

No sentient has bent this planet to its will. No traces of a camp, or even a ship’s landing but his own mar the cliff.

He can’t be sure he chose the exact place but he thinks he did.

Odessen stretches out before him, the sunset dipping the valley into flame. It has always been a sight to behold. It will be, for years to come.

He has never felt so alone.

But he isn’t, is he?

Kit feels it now and he wonders how it took him so long to notice. The push at the back of his mind, the depth of his hatred for Valkorion. The sheer _drive_ that never seemed to flag.

It was too well-aligned with his own thoughts and feelings to make him sit up and listen. He was so focused on hiding things from himself, he had hidden _this_. Or maybe she had. She is certainly powerful enough.

The elation when he drove his blade into Valkorion’s chest for a second time wasn’t his alone.

“It was you. You did this. You brought me here.”

There’s no answer but Kit sees her, out of the corner of his eye, peeling herself from the shadows. It’s halting, unpractised, as if she’s making it up as she goes.

Time doesn’t stop for her, as it did for her father.

 

_I see you by her side. In fact, that’s all I see when I look at you._

“Vaylin.”

She is just as he remembers. Not the bright girl he left behind on Zakuul, no. Dark, twisted by experiences beyond the comprehension of a sane mind. Broken and still so strong. One of the most terrible foes he has ever faced.

Try as he might, Kit can't muster any of the rage that once burned inside of him for all she had taken from him.

“Why?”

Her face twists into a snarl. Kit doesn’t bluster in response. He’s tired, too tired to put up even the token posturing he might have otherwise. He suspects he already knows the answer anyway.

When he does nothing but wait her out, eventually, she falters.

_‘I didn’t want to die.’_

Barely a whisper, aimed into the darkening night. If he wanted to, he could pretend he hadn’t heard it.

It reminds Kit so much of someone else he has to breathe through a wash of emotion. “You wanted another chance.”

The line of her mouth is as hard as it is bitter.

Someone had gotten that chance. It just hadn’t been _her_.

He doesn’t see a reason to rub that in. They both know it.

 _‘You saved her.’_ There’s something vulnerable about the words, wavering between question and accusation.

His princess. The thought makes his heart hurt. “I tried.”

She doesn’t say ‘No one ever came to save _me_. Not when it still mattered.’ Kit hears it anyway.

Odessen doesn’t have a moon to call its own. When the stars come out, their brilliance is uncontested.

No one is there to see it but them. Maybe no one ever will be, there’s no call to find this planet, after all.

It’s bittersweet.

Kit stands there for a long time, with only his ghosts to keep him company.

 

_‘What will you do now?’_

“That’s the question, isn’t it.”

 

 


End file.
